“Frankly, yes; we all were.”
I had given my answers readily, for each question I had foreseen.
“Do you know, Davy,” he said, looking me in the face, “that I am beginning to think that you, too, do not approve.”
“That’s a hard question to answer, but since you’ve put it,—here goes. There’s been something closer between us, Ben, than other brothers. I think I would make any sacrifice for you and your happiness. I’m not thinking of Letty; I’m thinking of you. I know her world and I know yours. Her world is a world that takes everything lightly and is not bruised by disillusionments. You are different. If you should be unhappy, it would break you.”
“You don’t know her as I know her,” he broke in.
“No—of course not.” For a moment the hideous irony of it escaped me. Had it been any other man, I would have been willing to convince myself that Letty, like a thousand other women of her class, was capable, once her love awakened, of absolute loyalty and devotion. But did she really love him, beyond a caprice of the emotions? That was what I did not know.
“Ben, you know that I am always loyal, no matter what happens. If it were a question of your good, old fellow, I would give my right arm.”
I held out my hand, and waited. If he could not bring himself to take it—but he did—though after some hesitation! The first test, thank God, was over. He could not have suspected and done that!
* * * * *
What had we said to each other? What could I have said differently? I was caught in the iron grip of circumstance, and every word was dictated to me. I knew my brother, and I was afraid,—coldly, mortally afraid. Such men are capable of murder.